#Micropoetry Monday: Love Story


She went to Utah, to seek her fortune in a husband,
but found misfortune that would keep her single
for the man who would someday understand her.

Divorce lawyer by day,
matchmaker by night,
Gwyneth Kate found her mate
in a client,
her client in a mate.

She was a movie star,
he was a stage actor,
Her legacy survived through celluloid,
his, through the cells
that made up his son.

Sir Evan was a quiet man who grew beauty,
capturing it with his camera.
His soft-spoken ways spoke to Moira Ma’am,
a white lily who grew in his heart–
a lily he made dewy.

She’d loved a 0,
a 10 had loved her,
but because the 0 had come first,
she lost The One.

Writer’s Digest Wednesday Poetry Prompt #394: Repair



I’m a porcelain doll,
all cracked up.
I’m a rag doll,
the stitches loosening
from too many washings.
I’m a paper doll,
all torn up.
I’m an Amish doll,
my face sometimes blank
when someone says two words
that sound like one.
I’m a Barbie doll,
all glammed up,
carrying two heavy weights.
I’m broken,
in need of repair.
Who can fix me,
but the one who collects dolls
and puts them in his dollhouse—
so pretty to look at,
for no one else to touch but him?


#Micropoetry Monday: Weapons, & Things that are Hard


The rock was used to kill,
the paper, to destroy a reputation,
the scissors, to maim—
all were equal as weapons.
All can kill the spirit,
but the rock alone,
the unrepentant soul.

She was a ruin—
jagged-toothed &
draped in moss,
till the rock collectors came,
& she was made better
than the sum of her parts.

Water was her weapon—
boiling water pouring on the body,
icicle piercing the heart,
saltwater filling the lungs—
no fingerprints left,
DNA washed away.

His affection for Lila #9’s
soft curves was hard.
She fulfilled his every need,
yet did not get pregnant.
He loved her like a real woman,
until she conspired with the one
to whom she sold his sperm.

*In John Updike’s story, “A&P” (http://www.tiger-town.com/whatnot/updike/), he does something unusual:  He implements a long adjective using hyphens, describing a grocery aisle.  My ENC1102 professor had us come up with our own; the weapons in the “Clue” board game came to mind.


Writer’s Digest Wednesday Poetry Prompt #393: Pieces


The First Mr. DeWinter

His wife had been a mystery to him,
and he searched through everyone she had ever known–
getting secondhand memories that seemed to contradict,
thirdhand accounts of those she had allegedly wronged,
and rumors of those wrongs she had sought to right;
he found himself more confused than ever,
for she was,
to them,
a mystery.



#Micropoetry Monday: Reconstruction


He wouldn’t have loved her whole,
but when he became half a man,
he loved her wholly.

She was 30 when she began her ministry—
of life after miscarriage & divorce with
18 undocumented years “about her mother’s business”—
finding herself resurrected
through her student disciples.

She bicycled and upcycled,
turning garbage into something green.
Her collar had gone from blue,
to white,
to green,
but it was when she fell back to blue,
she wanted much,
but wasted not.

The house was smaller than she remembered,
shabbier over time,
& she sought to bring it back from the grave
with her feelings that were as true as
her false memories.

An accident had taken her beauty,
& she learned to use her brain
to get it back.

20 Things My Mother Taught Me: A Mother’s Day Message


  1. You don’t have to be a stay-at-home mom to be a good mom.  Dads are capable of raising children, too, just as women are capable of serving in wars.
  2. Do not repeat your parents’ mistakes.  My mom didn’t believe in whipping because she was whipped as a child, and it was always a dehumanizing experience. Contrary to conservative belief, my brother and I didn’t fear our parents and turned out to be good citizens and innately kind human beings.
  3. Just because you love your children differently, doesn’t mean you don’t love them equally.
  4. The military is a worthy career choice.
  5. Tell your daughter she’s pretty.  (Her parents never did and so she grew up believing she was ugly.)
  6. Cancer schmancer.  You get it a second time, you fight it a second time.  Fighting till the end doesn’t make one’s death any less “dignified.”
  7. Perfectionism can be a hindrance to starting and finishing things.
  8. If you want your kid to be a Christian, take them to church.  My mom has often said she regretted not being stronger about this with my brother.  Church attendance doesn’t make you a Christian, but it can help solidify the foundation poured at home.
  9. Kelly is not a girl’s name.  American girls stole it.  (My brother’s name is Kelly Morgan.)
  10. Even if your parents weren’t perfect, it is your duty to take care of them for raising you to maturity.
  11. It’s okay to get really pissed off and throw things.  Just don’t throw them at people.
  12. Let your child pursue that which moves them.  For my brother, it’s music; for me, it’s writing.  Encourage them.
  13. Empathy is one of the greatest of all virtues.
  14. If you have one good friend in a lifetime, you’re lucky.
  15. Marry who you want, regardless of what your parents think.
  16. Eat your meat well-done.  Her dad grew up on a farm and knew the deal.  If you look like a hick for ordering it that way, so be it.
  17. Don’t be afraid to accept help, even if that help is from the government (as long as you are trying to better yourself in the process, in which you will be paying it all back via taxes).
  18. Dad’s food might give you ringworm.
  19. I was a baby before I was born.
  20. Let your children know they can always come home if they need to.  Love really is an open door.

And this Sunday’s Instagram post, which seemed befitting the holiday:

Revive the art of conversation peg

She had them put down their devices
to get a CLUE over some CHESS pie.
Mom had the MONOPOLY on sociability
that night she took a RISK by shaking things up.
When they all made plans for another night,
she saw it hadn’t been a TRIVIAL PURSUIT.

Writer’s Digest Wednesday Poetry Prompt #392: Forever


Canvases in a Locked Room

When segregation of the old from the young
became The Thing To Be Done,
the old died younger,
and the young could not see
past their own experiences.

Generations of civilizations
were limited their myopic, peripheral visions,
and wisdom was lost forever.